Strange Love
by AsianCutie93
Summary: Being in love with Hanamiya Makoto was such a strange thing, yet (he would never tell the younger man) it carried a satisfaction and thrill that no one else could offer. Imayoshi/Hanamiya


**Title**: Strange Love

**Summary**: Being in love with Hanamiya Makoto was such a strange thing, yet (he would never tell the younger man) it carried a satisfaction and thrill that no one else could offer. Imayoshi/Hanamiya

**Word Count**: 1,339 Words

**Warning**: If you don't like cannibalism, you should look away.

**Notes**: I am sorry fandom; this is why I should not have a computer.

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The first peculiar thing that Imayoshi noticed when he became conscious was the rope tied around his torso and limbs. A subtle move from his confused daze made the material bite into his flesh; the ebony-haired man restrained himself from wincing at the pain. The Touou, third year did not know if he was alone, so he chose the best option, which was to not alert any potential threats that he was conscious. Shoichi kept his head slacked in position and first tried to listen and smell for any markers to help identify where he was and what was going on.

There was a perfume of lavender, pumpkins, and white tea; it was a strangely comforting and soothing smell. The clang of silverware and calm, even footsteps close by. So close that he could feel the vibrations of the steps around him, and they were serene and unhurried. The chiming of silverware and the short distance of another person made Imayoshi determine that they were preparing the table for a meal. What kind of meal required that one of the occupants be tied down during it?

When there was no more information to be gained through closed eyes, the dark-haired, young man let his right eye open so slight that many would mistake he was still sleeping. Unfortunately his kidnapper did not leave Shoichi's glasses on, but at least the calculating, senior student could obtain silhouettes of nearby objects. A stark-white table (most likely covered by a table cloth), three candles lit to softly illuminate the (probably) expensive dinnerware, and the blurred outlines of a person that was about his height, weight, and had thick, chin-length, dark hair.

"Are you done pretending to be asleep?" Hanamiya? The identity of his former schoolmate was confirmed by the younger man, when Hanamiya placed his glasses delicately on his face. The bad boy was kind enough to adjust the frames until they rested in a familiar position on top of the slim, nose bridge and cheekbones. With his vision fully restored, Imayoshi focused on the elements he tried to observe earlier, and was now able to appreciate the second year's hard work. Everything was perfectly in place; the knifes, spoons, and forks were in proper order, the plates centered, and the elegant, crystal, champagne flutes sparkled in the dim glow. "You're such an idiot. Did you really think I would not notice when the rhythm of your breathing changed? You have to be smarter than that if you want to escape your fate."

"And what does fate have to offer me in this state?" Imayoshi asked, startled by the lack of fear he was experiencing in the situation. Sure, he would not show it, but he was poised despite seeing and knowing Makoto had this much control over him. Why was he not frightened by this moment, as he stared into those intense, murky green eyes framed by thick eyebrows, the familiar, annoyed scowl, and the natural, devious lilt to the Uncrowned King's polished words? The messy-haired man could only feel ease.

"Hm… are you really that curious Imayoshi?" The Kirisaki Daiichi student sounded mischievous and playful.

"Well, all of your efforts have sparked my interests. It must be something grand if you went to such lengths." Shoichi said with his usual, impish smile.

"Ha, don't flatter yourself. It is just like anything in life; it is only as valuable as how high you prioritize it. But if I may say this, you are one fucked-up man Imayoshi." Hanamiya commented. Imayoshi did his best to shrug the words off, but unintentionally cut himself on the binding rope. Was the younger man in a position to say such things, when it was Makoto that had the Touou Captain hostage?

The slightly shorter man sauntered around the immobile third year. A strong, unpredictable hand rested on Imayoshi's left shoulder and lazily trailed down until it rested over the left breast. A cold chill went down the elder man's spine, and Shoichi could only watch in horror as the clothes disappeared and the flesh under the lingering hand rotted and dissipated. He sucked in his breath, unsure how to feel and think and react to the unusual disintegration of skin and bone, and exposing the thumping, blood-pumping organ. The older male accidentally let out a small gasp when the offending hand gingerly pulled the beating muscle, leaving the cavity empty and barren.

"Do you know what this is?" Imayoshi breathily laughed at the odd question.

"I am not an oblivious man Hanamiya; you are holding my heart in your hand." The curious, bad boy gradually tightened his grip around the bloody heart. It actually was not as bad as he first predicted; those elegant fingers that could orchestrate the downfall of others felt warm and inviting, and it was only when the razor-like nails etched into the tender, sensitive flesh did Imayoshi's body spasm painfully against the rope that was already too tight.

"How interesting…" The former underclassman was amused. "How can you feel pain when it is no longer attached to you?" Actually, the more logical question to ask was how the hell was the elder able to be alive to feel it all when he was missing his heart? Why was fate denying Imayoshi the right to a merciful death?

Still in possession of the weeping organ, Hanamiya casually took his spot on the opposite end of the table and unceremoniously plopped the important, body part on the pure, porcelain plate. Imayoshi winced; he felt that fall somehow. The thickly-woven napkin was unfurled and delicately draped over the second year's strong thighs, and the ugly clang of a knife and fork being plucked from their place signaled the great terror that was about to happen. With practiced etiquette that was second nature to the affluent, Makoto glided the serrated, steak knife against the beating heart and pierced the tiny portion he cut with the correct fork.

"Ah!" The messy-haired man cried out, unable to stop himself from releasing the sign of pain and weakness. It was the most vicious, unfiltered pain that the Touou student ever felt. Just as he was about to pass out, the younger, basketball regular brought the delicate flesh to his lips and took a bite. A surge of electricity shook through Imayoshi, and heat pooled in his groin. Hanamiya eating his heart was euphoric. When the Kirisaki Daiichi player swallowed the wriggling organ, the piece returned to the preciously hollow cavity that was Shoichi's left breast.

"It taste bitter, but there is definitely a unique sweetness." The Uncrowned King mentioned as if he were partaking in tea tasting rather than cannibalism. The bad boy mercilessly repeated the cycle of prettily tearing into the heart, stabbing it savagely with the fork, and send hot, blinding, and confusing pleasure rippling through every abused nerve in the third year's tampered body. At the end of the entire process, the heart miraculously found its way back to Imayoshi's chest. Hanamiya carefully brought the napkin to his lips to wipe any excess from his mouth in a practically dainty-fashion.

"So, how was it?" The elder asked. The bad boy got out of his chair and said nothing to the cheeky question. Those elegant, talented fingers brushed against the erection straining under Imayoshi's trousers.

"I think you should be asking yourself that first." Hanamiya purred and lazily chuckled.

The sensuous voice, the white table, and the pleasant aroma soon went black and bleak, and the ebony-haired, Touou Captain woke up gasping for breath. He felt a hand slouched against his left breast, and he twisted his neck to see that it was Hanamiya's hand on him.

He thought back carefully, and remembered that he invited his boyfriend to spend the night because his parents were away from the city visiting relatives in Osaka. Being in love with Hanamiya Makoto was such a strange thing, yet (he would never tell the younger man) it carried a satisfaction and thrill that no one else could offer.

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I hope you enjoyed reading this.


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